Vexing Mr Holmes
by WhiteRose938
Summary: Regency AU. Much to his displeasure, Sherlock finds himself engaged. How will Sherlock handle not only being shackled to a wife he never wanted to have, but one who is determined to worm her way into his life... rewritten as of April 28th [Sherlock/OC]
1. Introductions

**Hello all,**

**I've decided to re-write the first chapter. I just wasn't happy with the previous story. Hope you like the improvements. **

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><p>Sherlock Holmes held the fervent belief that women especially wives were an inconvenience.<p>

He was about to make this known to the two women sitting across from him when Mrs. Hudson strode into the room carrying a tray with tea and crumpets.

"Is it going well dear?" Mrs. Hudson whispered to him as she handed Sherlock a cup.

"Hn." Sherlock scowled and looked away.

This was all his father's fault. He had been coerced by him to meet with this woman. A suitable woman, as his father put it.

"Sherlock, I believe Amelia asked you a question." His mother prompted.

"Sorry, I was not listening. Is that a new clock hanging on the wall?"

"Sherlock!" His mother hissed.

"It is fine, Lady Holmes."

She was timid, Sherlock deduced from the sound of her voice. The way she fiddled with her teacup told him she didn't want to be here any more than he did.

"It is such a beautiful day perhaps a stroll through the gardens would be a good idea." His mother suggested.

Sherlock jumped up spooking both women.

"Well lets get this over with then."

Amelia stood, taking Sherlock's outstretched arm. "Lead the way."

With his mother a few steps behind them Sherlock took the time to whisper to the creature on his arm.

"I trust you will disagree to the marriage."

"Why would you say that?" She inquired.

"We are clearly not suited to one another. I would be a horrible husband. Or did you not know of my reputation?"

"I have very little choice in the matter. It's either you or this pudgy old man my father insists I choose between."

"That pudgy old man could leave you a widow in a year or two."

"Excuse me, Lord Holmes but I do believe knowing your reputation you will oblige me sooner."

Sherlock snorted. "Just keep in mind, black would do little for your complexion."

"I believe we can stay out of each others way and be very happy. It needs only be a marriage in name only."

"And if I wanted progeny?"

"You don't."

"You don't know me at all…"

She looked up into his grey eyes. "If you had to choose between a silly wife who craves romance and one who is content leaving you to yourself which would you choose?"

Sherlock smirked. "Who broke your heart?"

"Wha.."

"It's clear from your attitude towards marriage that you are quite jaded. Not to mention the way your lips quiver with anger when you talk about romance."

Before Amelia could retort, Sherlocks mother caught up to them.

"What are you two whispering about?"

"I was just telling Lady Amelia how I couldn't wait to take her on a ride."

Amelia gasped, clearly flustered at his innuendo.

"He did no such thing I assure you, M'am."

"Lets return to the house. I'm sure your father is ready to leave by now. I hope you enjoyed your time here despite my son's horrible manners."

"I did." Amelia smiled.

The trio walked back to the manor in silence, although Sherlock's mother kept shooting him angry glances.

Not long after Sherlock was happily watching Amelia's carriage carry her away.

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><p><strong>Don't forget to R&amp;R<strong>

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	2. Wedding Bells

**Without further ado...here's chapter 2 :)**

**p.s. please note chapter 1 has been rewritten as off April 28th**

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><p>The tea party should have been the last time he saw her but not even a fortnight had gone by that he found himself standing by her side speaking marriage vows.<p>

"Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

"I do." Her voice barely a whisper.

Sherlock wanted to be angry. This was all her fault. One day meek as a kitten, the next a wildcat pushing for the marriage. No doubt everyone would pity her - forced to marry such a lout.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride."

Sherlock scoffed. She glared from behind her veil.

"Please don't embarrass me." She had begged before the ceremony began.

Not bothering to lift her veil he placed a small kiss on her cheek, and with that their family and friends stood clapping on either side. The marriage was finalized.

The happy couple was then led to a carriage and off they flew to have their wedding breakfast.

The journey back to his parents manor was taking longer than he would have liked and his wife couldn't keep still. It was bothering him.

"Would you stop?"

Amelia stilled. "Well that wasn't so bad." She laughed nervously taking in Sherlocks stoic expression.

"That wasn't an invitation to start speaking to me."

Amelia rolled her eyes. She knew how Sherlock was and who she had married. It's better than the alternative, she thought to herself.

A few select friends and family joined them for the small feast they had at home.

As they sat side by side, Amelia was deep in thought, worried she had made a mistake. She knew it was her duty to her family to marry and her father had left her little choice in the matter but perhaps...she could have found a way.

She played with the folds of her pale yellow dress until a cold hand covered hers.

"Stop."

"You could say please." She sniped, turning back to the food on her plate.

"I could but I won't," Sherlock paused and as an after thought added. "Mrs. Hudson will escort you home. I have business to attend to."

Amelia nodded, pulling at one of the ringlets of hair framing her face. It did not escape Sherlock that she seemed disappointed.

"We should talk about...things."

"There's nothing to talk about really - didn't you promise me you wouldn't be one of those annoying little brides?"

"Hmph." Amelia turned away, telling herself it could be worse.

Sherlock meanwhile noted that his father sitting at the other end of the table appeared quite pleased. No doubt glad to have joined their two families. He had heard snippets from Mycroft that Lord Beckett had offered to give Amelia a handsome sum in dowry if she married Sherlock.

In return Sherlock's father would help support him politically. What a neat little business venture they whipped up. Of course, neither parent seemed too concerned about their children's feelings on the matter.

As the food was cleared away and the family bid the newlyweds goodbye, Sherlock made his excuses and disappeared. Neither family was surprised. This was Sherlock afterall. It was a surprise he had shown up for the wedding at all.

Mrs. Hudson approached Amelia, tapping on her shoulder lightly. "Perhaps you would like to retreat? There is a lengthy ride to the city. I can imagine you are tired."

"That sounds lovely, Mrs. Hudson."

Amelia's mother walked her to the front doors. "Take care of yourself. You did the family proud today." She spoke patting her daughters hand.

"I will miss you." Amelia spoke truthfully, for while her mother had been absent for much of her childhood, she had been a pillar of support for her as she reached adulthood. She had even convinced her father to put off arranging a marriage for her until she was twenty.

As the carriage took her away Amelia pondered on where her life would take her now. Surely, life with Sherlock would be anything but dull.

"You'll get used to him, dear." Mrs. Hudson broke the silence. "He's a peculiar young man but I've never met someone more sincere and intelligent."

"Have you been with him for a long time?" Amelia inquired. "He treats you so kindly."

"For most of his life. I came on as the nanny of the Holmes family. Now, I find I'm still looking after Sherlock...he was the dearest of all the children." Mrs. Hudson thought for a moment before continuing. "Perhaps, I should warn you...you may find the house disorderly and smaller than what you are used to. Hopefully, you don't find that disagreeable."

"I'm sure I can manage." Amelia said amicably.

"Good girl." Mrs. Hudson patted her knee.

The townhouse was located just on the outskirts of the fashionable part of London, but Sherlock would never have lived somewhere expected.

There was neither a doorman nor a butler to greet the two women. The carriage driver helped unload the trunk and carried it inside.

Amelia stepped over the threshold.

This was her first look inside Sherlocks world and she wasn't so sure she could trust herself not to turn tail and run.

Yellow paint smeared the portrait on the wall. The wallpaper which at first looked like it was peeling off the wall was in fact torn from it. No doubt this was Sherlock's handy work.

"This way my dear, I arranged your room. Don't worry I locked it so Sherlock wouldn't have ruined it….I hope." Mrs. Hudson pulled her along through the house.

The only livable room seemed to be the drawing room. A few mismatched chairs were placed haphazardly in front of a marble fireplace.

Amelia was led up creaky steps, into a corridor with three rooms.

"That farthest one is yours. Let me just unlock it." Mrs. Hudson fiddled with her keys.

"I don't think that's necessary. The door is cracked open." Amelia stepped forward pushing against the door making it swing open.

The room wasn't a disaster persay but it was enough to make Mrs. Hudson gasp.

The bed cover was overturned, the dress drawers were pulled out and scattered around the room. The mattress ripped open and a vase of flowers had been tipped over scattering them all over the floor.

"Oh dear. I'm so sorry. I should have been more adamant with Sherlock. He has episodes…" Mrs. Hudson tried to explain.

"I-It's fine. I'm only sorry you took the trouble to arrange it nicely only to have your hard work ruined."

"I'll figure something out. Why don't you rest in the drawing room in the mean time."

It was nearly dark by the time Mrs. Hudson returned.

"Well, seeing as Sherlock won't be returning tonight. I don't see why you don't sleep in his room. Its the only neat room."

Amelia was apprehensive about this but figured it was a suitable revenge for Sherlock having ruined her room.

Mrs. Hudson helped her change into her nightgown and she climbed into bed. The sheets held a faint masculine scent of cologne and soap, they were strangely comforting and soon Amelia found herself dozing peacefully.

-Meanwhile-

Holmes found himself sitting in John's parlour sipping scotch mulling over their latest case.

"Really Sherlock there are more important things for you to be dealing with right now than this silly case."

"Our criminal has been stealing black umbrellas at precisely 11am every day for the past week...why are they being taken? and why only black?...and no clues..." Sherlock continued muttering to himself incoherently.

"Seriously Sherlock! I'm sure there are more grave cases for us to be dealing with. Don't you have a wife to go home to?"

"Don't think I won't fire you John. Now start giving me some ideas so I can shoot them down."

"Perhaps you have a long lost cousin with a penchant for black umbrella's who has escaped the mental hospital?"

"Hmm….there is cousin Mortimer...Haven't heard from him in a while."

"Sherlock go home! I would like some time alone with MY wife. You are just avoiding going home and you know it."

Sherlock took a final swig of his scotch before slamming it back on the table.

"I can see when I am not wanted. Good night Watson. Say hello to Mary for me."

John shook his head, worried for his wayward friend.

And so Sherlock disappeared from his friends house and made his way home. He made only a few stops at some pubs along the way. Places were a gentleman shouldn't be seen.

Eventually, he found himself at Baker St. fiddling with the lock on his townhome. It was late into the evening before he finally stumbled in.

The house was silent and he tiptoed to his bedroom lest he disturb Mrs. Hudson.

Kicking off his shoes in the hallway he stepped inside his room and jumped on the bed.

Chaos ensued.

Amelia screamed as someone fell on top of her. Jolting her awake.

"GET OFF!"

Sherlock leapt to his feet, but it was slightly less than graceful and he all but fell unto the floor.

"Good gods woman what are you doing in my bed!"

"I was sleeping!" Amelia hissed trying to lower her voice, but her chest was still heaving from the fright he had given her. She stood wrapping a blanket around herself. "You were the one who ruined my bedroom. I thought it was only fair I'd stay here."

"No I didn't...I was looking for my sheet music."

"HA!"

"Very well. Now that I am home please leave," Sherlock tried to be amiable.

"No - I am quite comfortable here thank you. Perhaps you should leave."

Sherlock proceeded to plop back on the bed she was no longer occupying.

"You can join me or leave I don't particularly care. Good night."

Amelia sputtered in outrage. "This isn't fair!" But his eyes were closed and he seemed intent on ignoring her.

Taking her blanket with her, she stomped down to the drawing room and made herself comfortable on a drawing chair.

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><p><strong>Don't forget to R&amp;R :) Hope you liked.<strong>

W.R


	3. Compromise

**Hi Guys,**

**Thanks for the reviews/follows/favs! Special shout out to for your review.  
><strong>

**Hope you enjoy this chapter. **

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><p>Light began trickling into the dark drawing room.<p>

A tall figure stood above the sleeping creature who was lounging in his favourite chair.

He debated what he should do and settled for a gentle prodding.

Amelia felt something cold poke her bare shoulder and she responded by swatting it away. This didn't seem to deter the person as another harder poke followed shortly after.

"Oww." She whimpered, cracking open her eyes.

There stood her tall dark brooding husband in a dark green robe, wielding a violin bow in his hand.

"Good. Now that you are finally awake please get off my chair."

"Did you just poke me with that bow?" Her voice was groggy but the disbelief was still evident

"Irrelevant."

"I can't believe you'd use a bow to touch me."

Suddenly, he leaned over her bringing his head close to hers.

"What would you rather I poke you with?"

She inhaled sharply blushing. "T-that's n-not what I meant!"

"I did find you in my bed last night and now in my chair….I can't help but begin to wonder…"He lowered his deep voice, making her shift nervously.

"Tell me, do you find me attractive, _Amelia_?"

This was the first time he uttered her name.

She looked away from his eyes blushing a deeper shade of red.

"I do not." Her voice was not as steady as it should have been.

Sherlock smirked, "Liar."

Having enough of his antics and getting increasingly uncomfortable with him. She pushed herself up, moving him out of her way and plodded out of the drawing room without a further glance in his direction.

By abandoning the blanket on the chair, she was covered only by her nightshift. And Sherlock couldn't help but notice that it made the shapely outline of her body visible.

Sherlock supposed it was natural for her to find him attractive and for him to appreciate her form.

They were both young healthy adults and although Sherlock prided himself on being above the common man, he acknowledged that there were some biological imperatives his brain was wired for that he couldn't smother all together.

In the mean time, Amelia was struggling to dress herself in her destroyed room when Mrs. Hudson appeared.

"I was looking for you dear. Here let me help you with that." She walked over and began lacing Amelia into her corset. "I do believe you should speak to Sherlock about hiring a personal maid for yourself. I wouldn't mind a bit of help in my old age." Mrs. Hudson suggested.

"Of course." Amelia replied while she secretly she knew she wouldn't even bring it up. Somehow she could just picture the way Sherlock would twist his lips disapprovingly and call her a spoiled brat. She would have to adjust simple as that and her elaborate gowns would have to go.

"I'll need to speak to, my husband about the finances. Or perhaps you could help me?" She inquired.

Mrs. Hudson coughed almost guiltily. "Yes, of course. They are a mess. Sherlock doesn't like me organizing his papers so I couldn't tell you much. But you will find everything in his office."

"I'll speak to him at breakfast then." Amelia sighed, pulling over her second plain white petticoat, to complete her morning dress.

"That's fine but you should know Sherlock rarely eats his meals and when he does its never on time or regular hours."

"Why am I not surprised."

Pulling her hair into a simple bun Amelia walked out of the room. Leaving Mrs. Hudson in her wake.

The sound of the violin was entrancing.

Amelia was taken aback by how well Sherlock played so she creeped into the drawing room hoping not to interrupt.

As he finished the piece he finally acknowledged her with a curt, "What?"

"May we talk about the finances of the house and what sort of allowance I will be allowed?"

"You are proving to be quite a headache." He complained.

"I'm being perfectly reasonable. I am fine adapting to your lifestyle but I need you to make some minor concessions."

Sherlock groaned but decided he could get rid of her faster if he complied. "Check under the vase on the mantle piece. The door to the office is down the hall to the third on the left." He began playing again.

Amelia found a small gold key under the chipped vase and proceeded to find the office before Sherlock changed his mind.

She spent the better part of the morning in the dusty office. Curtains nailed to the windows kept most of the light at bay, so she was forced to rely on a candle to provide additional light. When she emerged tired and hungry she plodded to the dining room in search of food.

Sherlock was there ripping away at toast while scanning the daily newspaper.

Amelia sat across from him, grabbing some of the bread rolls on the table.

Sherlock having finished his reading he put the newspaper down and stared at the brunette across from him. She was clearly hungry and thirsty.

Not in the habit of being nice he struggled before pushing his steaming cup of tea in her general direction.

"Thank you." She accepted it greedily.

"It was my second," he explained unnecessarily. "So what is your verdict?"

Amelia sipped her tea before beginning. "You seem to be making a decent income from solving cases and the yearly allowance from your father. Between that and your low cost of living you make a decent 1,000 pounds a year. But you are clearly not managing your money well."

"And you know a lot about managing incomes?" Sherlock scoffed.

"My mother provided me with a well rounded education. After all, she was preparing me to marry a man of high rank and manage a large household."

"You must be sorely disappointed with me then."

"Quite the contrary."

Sherlock eyed her suspiciously.

"It's true. For the most part I find your unusual lifestyle to be quite refreshing."

"Wrong. You feel lost and uncertain. I can tell from your manner and appearance, you are trying to make the most of your situation…"

"How-w.."

"Your hair is pulled in a bun far too tight and you keep fiddling incessantly with your dress...something I found you do whenever you are nervous or anxious."

Amelia took a breath to calm herself. "Maybe, this has been a sudden change for me. But I find it much less stifling than life was at home. Where every hour of every waking moment was scheduled."

"All I would like is to be able to have my own room, which will not be destroyed and an income that I am entitled too. Is that really too much to ask?"

"No it is not." A strange voice spoke up behind her.

"Ah Watson, about time! Shall we go?"

"You may wish to change, Sherlock." Watson said noting he was still in his green robe. Then he turned to Amelia with a warm smile and quick bow. "Please allow me to introduce myself. I am Doctor John Watson. Congratulations on your nuptials."

Amelia stood shaking his outstretched hand. "Its a pleasure to meet you."

"I'll wait in the drawing room while you two finish your conversation. Sorry for interrupting." Watson excused himself.

Sherlock groaned knowing full well Watson wouldn't cooperate with him if he didn't listen to Amelia. "Well….make it quick."

"Allow me an allowance of 100 pounds a year and to manage the household income. I have ideas for investing money that could be put to use. If you'd like to hear them?"

"I don't care so long as you don't bankrupt me. And no servants!" With that declaration, Sherlock stormed out of the room, most likely to get dressed.

Amelia was content with that. To be honest after seeing the condition of this home she had half expected Sherlock to be destitute. He was an entity unto himself and instead had just choose to live by different rules.

Exploring the house she stumbled across the kitchen in the basement. Mrs. Hudson was busy at work making what looked like a fruit cake.

"Hello, Mrs. Hudson." She greeted.

Whipping around the poor woman was surprised to see Amelia standing here. "Oh my Lady, you shouldn't be here."

"It's fine. Rules are broken frequently in this house." Amelia smiled. "I will need your help finding a dressmaker to make appropriate clothing for me and maybe take me around the neighborhood."

"Of course, I'd be more than happy to."

"I'll come find you once I finish making a list of all the things I wish to know or need."

Amelia retreated back upstairs and hunkered down in Sherlock's leather office chair. On an aged piece of paper she began listing things she would need to fix up the place and get some necessities for herself.

Having finished that she penned a letter to her mother, asking her to send some of her personal possessions from home.

A wave of exhaustion hit her at that moment. Lack of sleep and the stress of the wedding had finally gotten to her.

"It could be worse, Amelia." She said out loud.

She was saying that a lot recently.

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><p><strong>Just a tidbit fact during the regency you a family of 7 like the Bennets' (from pride and prejudice) lived on 2000 pounds a year. While they weren't wealthy they did live a decent life. <strong>

**Hope you liked this chapter. Please R&R**

**Warmest Regards,**

**W.R**


	4. Meeting & Promises

**Sorry its been so long since I updated. But here is chapter 4. Enjoy!**

**Thanks for the reviews and support**

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><p>Over the following days with the help of Mrs. Hudson Amelia procured for herself a neat little wardrobe of simple dresses and petticoats. The seamstress had given her a few stares when she requested the items. But at least Amelia wouldn't need to fear ruining them and they made it possible for her to dress without requiring much help.<p>

She also went about trying to arrange the house and have the necessary repairs made.

During this time she saw little of her wayward husband. He was off for most days with his investigations and the kindhearted John.

This normally wouldn't have bothered her except that her dear "friends" were expressing concerns when they came to call on her.

Slight jabs were made at her simple clothing, the state of her household and the fact that Sherlock was never around.

Was he displeased with her? They would never ask the question outright but Amelia felt it in their stares.

Mrs. Hudson had been the one to comfort her after such visits. Offering her kind words and a cup of steaming hot tea.

"Soon they will get bored of staring and stop visiting. You don't need those silly ninnies anyways." She would say patting her arm comfortingly.

On a sunny monday morning, Amelia found her meeting with the lawyer interrupted when a black carriage pulled up to her front door.

The driver opened the door and out popped a familiar face.

Amelia noticed from the corner of her eye and turned to her lawyer.

"I think we will need to conclude with the meeting for now. It seems I have a visitor." She smiled at the kindly gentleman.

"Of course, I will have someone bring by the letters with a few prospects you might like."

"Thank you."

As the lawyer left Mycroft Holmes stormed in, a flustered following closely behind him.

"Good day, Lord Holmes."

"Hello, dear Sister." He smiled but his face was plastered in a grimace. Did he hate conversing with people so much?

"Please have a seat. What can I help you with?" Ever the gracious host Amelia pretended like nothing was out of the ordinary.

"I've come to speak to you about a matter of importance - regarding my brother."

"I don't know that I'd be able to help you all that much. I barely know him and as you can see he has hardly been home."

"Yes, I've noticed the house seems all too put together for him to have rampaged through the house any time soon."

"You make your brother sound like a monster."

"He is."

"I don't…"

"Now what I ask is perfectly reasonable. All you need to do is occasionally report to me on his movements."

"You want me to spy on my husband." Amelia eyed him incredulous. What was with this family?

"Are you really so loyal already? What has Sherlock done to inspire such devotion?"

"Nothing, I…"

Mycroft was ruthless.

"Do you know where your husband is now? He's running around in Manchester with the oddest crowd. Has been for a week. Do you want to know how I had to drag him to the altar on the day of your wedding? He was hiding in the workhouse trying to avoid marrying you."

Amelia wasn't surprised but her pride was bruised. Was she really so undesirable that he would go to such lengths to avoid marrying her but knowing Sherlock he probably would do that just to avoid seeing the doctor.

"Has he told you about Irene?"

"No..."

"There's not much to tell...father, of course, forbade the union. She was an undesirable bride."

Amelia had a bad foreboding. "It's in the past."

Mycroft shot her that sly smile of his. "It might have been except she's been spotted in Manchester."

Amelia took a sharp intake of breath. While it was commonplace for men to have a mistress, it still wounded her to hear that Sherlock might have taken one. Not to mention that everyone seemed to know except for her.

"I will let you think on my words. Good day, Mrs. Holmes." Mycroft stood bowing his head.

"Wait…"Amelia called after him. "Why was Irene an unsuitable woman?"

"She was a whore. Of the highest quality I am sure. My brother always wants the best."

Amelia gaped that was really too much.

With Mycroft gone, Amelia remained sitting mulling over all this information. He could be lying she thought to herself but she didn't really know Sherlock all that well.

Was she such a shrew? Her father pawed her off for political gain to a second son of a noble who stood to inherit nothing. More than that the man she married, seemed completely disinterested in her.

On the third day after Mycroft's' visit her husband dained to make an appearance.

Stumbling through the corridors Amelia was shocked he had not knocked over all the lit candles.

"Are you well, Husband?" She asked arms crossed over her chest. Her mouth twisted in disapproval. As he approached the stench of alcohol and tobacco rolled off of him.

"I was conducting an experiment." His brief explanation was cut short by John who opened the front door. A blonde woman followed after him.

"Good evening, Lady Amelia. I must apologize - he got away from me as he tends to do." John bowed. "Please let me introduce my wife, Mary. I thought you could use a bit of company while I finished up with Sherlock."

Amelia became acutely aware of her informal apparel. She was still wearing her morning dress. It was a simple white muslin chemise over which she had wrapped herself in a paisley cashmere shawl.

"No need to fret." Mary said noting her distress, she came forward to greet her.

Mary seemed comfortable taking control of the house and boys. Sending them off to Sherlock's study, she asked Mrs. Hudson to put a pot of tea on the stove and led Amelia to the parlour.

"I've been meaning to visit you for quite sometime." Mary apologized. "But, unfortunately I was feeling under the weather."

"Its nice to meet another of Sherlock's friends."

"I can imagine you have been lonely," Mary added. "Sherlock should have had the good graces to ask you to join us in Manchester."

Amelia looked away. "Its alright I know he was occupied with important matters."

"Regardless, I will be around home more often now so you can come keep me company."

Seeing Amelia look at her with curiosity Mary explained in a whispered voice. "I'm expecting a child."

"Oh! That is wonderful." Amelia beemed. "Congratulations."

Mary smiled placing a hand over her stomach. "It's still early days."

"I can't imagine having child of my own…" Amelia's wishful words were interrupted.

"Well you won't have to worry about that." The curt voice belonged to none other than Sherlock who strutted into the room.

Had Sherlock not been busy swiping a cup of tea he would have noticed the hurt crossover Amelia's face.

"Sherlock that was cruel!" Mary scolded him harshly.

An awkward silence filled the room. It only dissipated after Sherlock left the room once more. But not before he had stared at Amelia with obvious disappointment.

Mary stood up following after him intent on scolding him further.

As she stormed out, Amelia couldn't help but remember her conversation with Mycroft. Perhaps, it was time to write him a letter.

She promised herself she would no longer let Sherlock push her into the background.

For Amelia feared she would wither away alone in this damp house.

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><p><strong>Fin. <strong>

**Update will soon follow - thanks again to everyone who added this story to their favorites/is following it/reviewed. **


	5. Growing

**Sorry for not having updated in awhile. I will blame it on being distracted by life :D **

**For Daedalus Collective: Corsets were worn in the regency - they looked different from the medieval corset or that of the Victorian era. If you'd like to know more here is a link: www. oregonregency. blogspot .ca/2010/06/overview-of-regency-stayscorsets. html (no spaces)**

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed and read this story! You keep me motivated. **

**All the best,**

**W.R**

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><p>"She's gone."<p>

Sherlock balked at Mrs. Hudson.

"She said she would be back this evening but did not say another word about where she was going."

"You should have had her followed!" Sherlock groaned. He could just imagine the scolding he would get from his parents - losing his wife after only a month of marriage. "Did she leave with anyone?"

"No, of course not! Don't you dare assume she's run off with a lover. Although she does deserve to find someone who truly cares for her." Mrs. Hudson lamented. "You should really pay more attention to her. She's such a delightful creature."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Yes, Mrs. Hudson. Could you make me a cup of tea?"

"Certainly."

Sherlock was relieved as he watched Mrs. Hudson march downstairs.

Now he could focus on investigating.

First thing first, he thought eyeing the staircase that led to her rooms.

He stepped inside the room cautiously, expecting Amelia to pop out from behind her wardrobe to yell at him for intruding. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary but upon further inspection of he noticed fresh ink smudges on her writing table. So she had been conversing with someone but who?

Her drawer was locked but nothing that would stop him from opening with a file.

Inside, he found letters addressed to Mr. Sherlock Holmes from a solicitor. They outlined various prospects - some larger estates and some smaller modest cottages and lands.

So she intended to buy a second home and runaway to it?

Her parents would not approve, he thought idly.

At first he thought he was glad upon discovering that she had decided to find accommodations elsewhere but…something about the idea made him feel displeased.

Sherlock placed her letters back and returned downstairs to his study, deciding all the while that it would be appropriate for him to be irked at the idea.

Afterall, it was his hard earned money she was using to buy herself some fancy home. They had reached an unspoken understanding - Sherlock would restrain himself from being rude to her and she in turn would put up with him.

Sherlock mused that she was not a horrible companion. With John occupied most days now with caring for Mary in her pregnancy, he had been relying on Amelia to bounce ideas off of - although most times she dozed off. Which Sherlock felt was very inconsiderate of her.

While Sherlock was sulking in his study, Amelia was sitting comfortably in the rented out carriage as it pulled her along towards Oxfordshire.

She was not going all the way to Oxford but she was going to a small manor just outside of the city. The land it was situated on would be perfected for farming and the house could be rented out to a nice gentile family. A perfect investment opportunity - as her lawyer had assured her.

"We are here, M'ilady." The driver shouted to her. As he pulled into the gravel road leading up to the small manor.

Amelia stuck her head out of the window in a quite unladylike fashion.

The manor was quaint but well maintained. She counted a combined 14 large windows on the front of the two storey building and 6 chimney stacks.

The driver pulled the carriage to a stop and jumped down, opening the door for her.

"Thank you." She paid him well and asked him to return within an hour or two.

As she approached the door it swung open revealing her lawyer.

"Ah glad you could come at last, Mistress Holmes. Is Mr. Holmes not with you?" He inquired.

"Unfortunately, he was busy so he sent me instead. Never fear - I will report everything back to him." She smiled.

"Of course. Let me give you a tour of the house." He beckoned her inside.

The powder room and dining rooms were quite large. Upstairs there were four generous bedrooms. This house would situate a small family comfortably.

She had little more to discuss with the lawyer after signing the necessary paperwork - on behalf of her husband of course. Amelia left him with instructions on finding tenants for the place and further plans to hire workers for the fields.

"I will have the necessary funds brought to you, ." And she bid him good evening.

It was dusk by the time she appeared at home, having stopped at an inn to grab some dinner.

As she walked up the steps, she spotted Sherlock gazing at her intently and she steeled herself for his reaction.

Taking off her bonnet and gloves as she entered the house, Amelia went in search of her husband.

"So...I take it your trip was a success?" Sherlock piped, noting her rosy cheeks and cheerful demeanor.

"Yes, it was. Thank you for asking."

"Maybe next time you will ask me before making any real estate purchases."

Amelia rebuked him. "You gave me permission - remember? You said I could be independant."

Sherlock scoffed but did not say anything for a while. He went over to his violin and began plucking at its strings.

"Don't you want to know anything about it?" Amelia asked as she made herself comfortable on the brown armchair, she had adopted for her own uses.

"When are you leaving?"

"What do you mean?" Amelia was clearly confused.

"Ah. So why did you actually buy real estate or was this a cover to hide more sinister intentions? No...that's too clever a ploy...unless….does this have something to do with….Mycroft?" His thoughts came tumbling out almost incoherently.

Amelia sighed. Would she ever get used to this? By "this" she meant Sherlock.

"Let me explain. I did buy a property. For us. As an investment. We can rent out the house and work the land….it's situated on a tidy 60 acres of land. So no I am not moving out. I did not know you'd care so much." Amelia teased.

"I don't care."

Amelia snorted. "You gave me a good impression that you did in fact care."

He retaliated with a glare.

"How can I trust you? I bet you got swindled. What could a silly little chit like you know about investments in real estate."

Now it was Amelia's turn to glare. "Give me some credit. I'm not a bumbling fool."

"Not as much as some people, I'll grant you that."

"How kind of you! I'm glad you hold your wife in such high esteem." Amelia began pulling the pins out of her hair out. Letting the brown curls tumble down her back.

"There's been a murder. You will come investigate with me - John is preoccupied." Sherlock stood, offering his hand to help her up.

"Are you sure that's quite proper?I-I'm not properly dressed to go galavanting around London with you…"

Sherlock placed a finger over her lips to shush her.

"Trust me, my brave industrious wife."

Amelia blushed, but decided for once in her life to do something daring.

"Alright - but just so you know I don't trust you."

"Good."

With that Amelia followed her strange husband out into the darkening streets of London, unsure of where the night would lead her.


	6. Red Lips

**This chapter is dedicated to for her kind words and keeping me inspired to keep writing! **

**Thanks again to all who review/follow/favorite my story! **

**Hope you enjoy this chapter.**

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><p>London was dark. A light fog had set in covering the streets in an eerie mist.<p>

A strange duo were making their way through the empty streets.

One pulling the other along.

"Really Sherlock. Let me catch my breath." Amelia panted unused to the strenuous exercise of traipsing through London.

Sherlock tightened his grip on her hand. "Almost there." He promised.

The thought briefly ran across Amelia's mind that he had said that twice already.

Turning the corner they found themselves on Spencer Ave. a small cul-de-sac. The houses didn't scream out wealth but neither were they slums.

"Here we are." Sherlock said walking up the steps to number 14, dragging a tired Amelia behind him.

He didn't bother knocking on the door just barged in.

"Lestrade." Sherlock greeted the inspector. "So who was it?" Sherlock took in the scene in front of him. Lestrade and Donovan were speaking with a middle aged woman who looked thoroughly distraught. "Wait don't tell me - I'm guessing someone killed the son?"

The woman let out a sob.

"Sherlock!" Both Lestrade and Donovan reprimanded him.

"I'll go examine the body." Sherlock declared, taking steps across the room. When Amelia, who was shell-shocked did not follow him, he turned to her calling out. "Well come along." As if he was calling for a puppy.

Embarrassed and unsure what to do, Amelia followed Sherlock out of the corridor and into what appeared to be the kitchen.

She gasped when she saw the boys body, her stomach churned at the sight. He looked no older than fifteen.

Sherlock spared her a glance. She seemed to be holding up - frankly, he was surprised she had not fainted.

The body in question was a peculiar pale blue color. Eyes wide, and bloodshot. And what looked like vomit beside him.

It did not take long for him to figure out what had happened.

"Sherlock...was he...p-poisoned?" Amelia choked out, seeing nothing else wrong with him.

"You read too many gothic novels, my dear." He sunk down to his knees and searched the boys pockets. Something Lestrade would no doubt have failed to do for decorums sake. He pulled out a ticket stub for what looked to be the London fair and pocketed the item.

"But yes - it was poison."

Examining the boys shoes he noted, the red dirt and what looked smelled like beer that stained the shoes. The boys clothes also smelled heavily of cologne which was peculiar for a young man - unless he was trying to hide something or...the scent of something from his loved ones.

"What happened to him?" Amelia whispered nervously.

"Isn't it obvious?" Sherlock was always thrown back by how unobservant most people where.

"He's a runner/delivery boy for some opium den in London, hence the cologne - he doesn't want mother dearest to know. Tonight something changed...his drink was poisoned seeing as there is no obvious entrance wound and that he had spilled his drink….he realized too late and here he is….but why would your first thought be to come home...to your kitchen." He peered around the kitchen.

Amelia chirped in. "Something to help counteract the poison?" Out of the corner of her eye she spotted the oven and it all clicked. "Oh! Charcoal he came home for charcoal...whatever he was poisoned with he knew charcoal could help him."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at her. "Bravo."

Amelia smiled. "I read about it…"

"You studied poisons?" Sherlock grinned. "How interesting."

"No, of course not! I perused Ailments and Their Cures." Amelia defended herself.

"Pity."

Sherlock spent a few more moments examining the body before standing again.

"I've gathered all I need for now...I do believe its time to find the opium den this young man was working for. What did he see? that would make it necessary for his employers to dispose of him."

"Please tell me you are not taking me to a place of such ill repute?" Amelia grew nervous at the thought.

"Not tonight. Besides there are so many in London we would be hard pressed to find the right one...no, this is our ticket." Sherlock smiled holding up the ticket stub.

"Come on." He grabbed her hand pulling her out of the room. "By the way you will have to tell me how you got to be so calm around corpses." He whispered this last part to her causing her to shudder.

Lestrade closed his notebook as he saw Sherlock and the strange woman come out of the kitchen. Lestrade had learned a long time ago to not question Sherlock on who he brought on as his companions. Better not to know - was his policy in this regard.

"What did you find Sherlock, you were only in there for five minutes?"

"I work fast." Sherlock gave him a quick recounting of what he had deduced. "I think we shall turn in now. I do think you should return home early...who knows what your wife is doing or whom."

Sherlock and Amelia ran out of the house as Lestrade was hissing curses after the tall man.

The walk back home was slower, and not such a grueling pace.

The dark man and brunette walking hand-in-hand every bit the respectable couple.

"You did well tonight." Sherlock complimented his wife.

"Thank you, for taking me along…"Amelia paused realizing what she said. "Not that I'm happy that young man was murdered or that I enjoyed it. I-I liked being included." She finally admitted.

"John was busy." He stated matter-of-factly.

"Still." She pulled herself closer to his warm body. "Most exciting night I had in a while. Amelia stifled a yawn and smiled up at her husband who looked exceedingly uncomfortable.

Not long after having deposited Amelia in her room, Sherlock marched downstairs, pipe in hand and sat down to smoke by the fireplace.

"She's just a replacement for John." he muttered aloud. "Nothing more."

A floorboard behind him creaked. He didn't need to look to know who it was.

"Mycroft - what do you want?"

"Nothing, brother of mine. Checking in."

Sherlock doubted that. His brother was such a nuisance.

"She refused to spy on you for me."

"Who?"

"Your wife."

"Oh. Too bad - that would have been interesting of her."

"Sherlock you are bored. Do not drag her into this."

Sherlock looked at him questioningly.

"Your world, Sherlock. She does not belong. I have no idea why father married you off to her...but we need her and her family's goodwill."

Sherlock was growing irritated. "She can do whatever she likes."

"Anyways - father has heard reports and he is not happy. Do not say I did not warn you. But I came here tonight for something else." Mycroft pulled an envelope out of his coat pocket and left it on a table beside his brother who was intent on ignoring him now.

"You will find the contents of this letter….interesting. Good Night."

And with that the bane of his existence was gone.

Sherlock refused to give into temptation right away - he would not look at that envelope.

It was like this Amelia found Sherlock in the morning - glaring at the said parchment.

"Um. Good Morning?" She greeted. "Did you even go to bed?"

"No." He paused for a moment. "Why don't you look inside the envelope?"

"Okay."

Amelia picked up the letter breaking the seal. She pulled out a single piece of paper.

"What does it say?"

Unfolding it Amelia read, "Package has been found. Off to America."

Confused she asked Sherlock what it meant.

"Nothing to concern yourself with." He stood stretching, his dark curls messier than usual. "I'm going to call on John."

"Alright." Amelia looked downtrodden. She was being excluded again.

It was then taking in her sad visage that Sherlock did something surprising. He placed a hand on her shoulder. "I should not have taken you last night. It was the last place for a lady such as yourself."

Before she could protest, he placed a light kiss on her forehead and ran out the door.

Undeterred, Amelia ran upstairs to retrieve her cape and bonnet. She would follow after Sherlock.

But when she opened the door she was greeted by a woman standing on her steps.

This woman was all darkness. Dark hair, black silk dress, pale skin and red lips.

"You must be Amelia." She smiled a pearly white smile.


	7. Friends

**Sorry for the delay again! This chapter is longer so hope that makes up for it a bit**

**Thank you for all the reviews :D I really appreciate them all. They keep me going. Love you guys. **

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><p>"And you must be?" Amelia left the question hanging.<p>

"I'm Irene."

Amelia gaped. Ready to shut the door in this woman's face.

"Please don't."

"Wh-what?"

"Close the door."

Amelia swallowed hard. "What do you want?"

"I'd like to come in."

"Sherlock is not here."

"I know."

Amelia was confused but stood aside to let her through the doorway. In a flurry of silks Irene entered swiftly, shutting the door behind her.

"I hope I was not followed but one can never be sure. Shall we sit somewhere?"

Irene was not what Amelia expected. Although all she had to go by was Mycroft's account of her.

Irene reminded her of a certain , albeit one who possessed a more charming disposition.

After they retreated to the drawing room, Irene extended her hand in greeting.

"Well, good morning - thank you for letting me in. I'm sure you've heard a lot about me - things I hope to lay to rest..."Irene paused before adding, "the wedding was lovely by the way."

"You weren't there, were you? Or I don't remember seeing you..."

Irene grinned. "I was in disguise. Too curious, you see. Mycroft came to scold me after though."

"Ah."

Amelia watched as Irene made herself comfortable in Sherlocks' chair. She was about to say something but thought the better of it and sat across from this dark lady.

"I should start off with saying I have never been or had a relationship with Sherlock. Our relationship was always a professional one. Although we did play the part for a while."

"I never assumed…"

"Do not worry. I know how Mycroft works, he would have used anything to try to set you against Sherlock."

Amelia could not deny this. "Why?"

"It's rather complicated. Mycroft wants to protect Sherlock while, also protecting the world from Sherlock."

That would explain a few things, Amelia thought to herself. She would try to figure out more about the brothers strange relationship.

"In any case, I wouldn't stand in your way. It's not like Sherlock and I have a conventional marriage by any means." Amelia look down as she spoke not daring to meet Irene's gaze.

"He would not have married you if he did not like you."

"What are you talking about?"

"Even with all the pressure from his family - if Sherlock did not like you at all then you would not be standing here before me today." Irene stated this firmly, leaving no room for misunderstanding.

It shamed Amelia but the implications made her heart beat a little bit faster.

And even worse Irene probably realized this too.

The two women sat in silence for a few moments before Amelia spoke.

"So what can I do for you?"

"I need a place to stay - just until tonight. There's not many places in London where I'd be safe right now. This would be the last place anyone would look."

"Because of the rumours?"

"Yes...who would think that the wife would give safe haven to the mistress." Irene looked away now, becoming entirely forlorn.

"You should rest - there's an empty room upstairs. I can't promise anything but for now you can stay."

"Thank you. I can't ask for more."

Amelia led her upstairs, giving her a few blankets. she left Irene and returned downstairs.

She was...unsure of the whole situation. Where was Sherlock?

Biting her fingernails, she thought about how inviting Irene into her household would invite trouble. And who did she need safe haven from? There must be a reason for Mycroft's disdain of her….Amelia had so many worries it was driving her mad.

She was so lost in thought that she didn't hear the knock at the door.

It was Mrs. Hudson who opened the black wooden door.

"Amelia! it's your mother." She hissed having rushed back into the room.

"What?!" Amelia was startled.

"Amelia, where are you?" The shrill voice belonging to none other than her mother carried down the hallway.

"Oh lord!" Amelia jumped to her feet, trying to arrange her dress and hair as best she could.

And Irene! Please, stay upstairs, she prayed.

Her mother strode into the room with confident steps and a piercing look of disapproval.

"Mother! What a pleasure." Amelia walked forward, hugging her.

"It's nice to see you too." Her mother scanned the room. "I heard the rumours. I'm sad to say they are true." She sighed.

"Rumours?" Amelia gulped. She had no doubt what this was about.

"You should tell your husband to renovate this place. Look at this drab furniture. And why don't you have a doorman? Is it just that old lady here running this place?"

"Mother, please. This is just fine for me. And Mrs. Hudson is doing a fantastic job. We do not need a doorman because we have no use for one. Besides, we don't entertain much."

Amelia's mother scoffed. "There has been talk and rumours. I was concerned. That's why I came to see you."

Amelia motioned for , who was still in the corner to bring tea.

"I'm glad you did." She smiled, although she thought her mother could have picked a better time.

"I know you have always been a bit odd, and needed a push in the right direction so your father thought that I should come speak to you."

"Ah...so it's father who put you up to this?"

"He never likes it when there is talk about the family especially - gossip. Maybe, you could implore your husband to go to a ball or two. Socialize a bit. It's for the best of both families."

Mrs. Hudson came in with a tray of tea and served the two ladies in silence.

"I shall speak to him. Sherlock is a more...solitary man. He would…"

Amelia's mother interrupted her. "Darling, I am sure you could persuade him. Just until the rumours die down. For the good of the family."

Amelia hated when her mother would prey upon her sensibilities to manipulate her into doing what she wanted.

"I shall speak to him but I will not promise anything more."

"Stop scowling like that Amelia."

And so mother and daughter spent the better half of the afternoon talking and drinking tea before Amelia's mother was called away to another social call.

"I will write to you more." Amelia promised as she watched her mother disappear into the carriage.

"Take care, darling."

Sighing, Amelia re-entered her home muttering to herself about how her home was not too bad.

"I see where you get your good looks from?"

Amelia looked up to see Irene standing at the top of the stairs.

"She's very youthful for her age. She can't be older than 50."

"58 actually."

"You will be lucky, then." Irene started descending. "I on the other hand will be a wrinkly old bat by the time I'm 40, if my own mother was anything to go by."

Amelia laughed. "I doubt it. You are quite stunning."

"How about a game of cards? and a spot of lunch?" Irene suggested.

Sherlock looked forward to spending an evening venting to Amelia.

The trail had run cold for now. And unluckily he hadn't been able to find anyone at this time of night willing to take him to Bath….it was just a six hour journey by carriage.

Honestly, people could be so unreasonable.

As he rounded the street corner he noticed light shining through the parlor window.

Usually, Amelia would have retired by this time and the fireplace and candles extinguished.

Was she entertaining guests? Who could it be?

Curiosity piqued, he hurried his pace.

Silently, he snuck inside.

The scene that greeted him was not one that crossed his mind. Not in a thousand years.

There was his wife, sitting at the table playing cards with Irene Adler.

"Oh! Sherlock you're back." Amelia was first to spot him.

She stood up, a big smile on her face. "Irene is just wonderful. I offered to have her stay the night."

"Yes, your wife is very kind." Irene smiled.

"Well won't you greet me properly?" She extended her hand out to him.

He took it, placing a quick peck. "Welcome."

Irene rolled her eyes at his brisk greeting. "You'd think we weren't old friends." She laughed.

"You'll have to forgive me. I had not known you were in town."

"Are you losing your touch, dear?"

Amelia interrupted before Sherlock could retort. Although this all seemed like friendly banter.

"Would you like some food? I am sure we have something suitable in the larder."

"Yes, thank you."

Amelia snuck past him. Giving his hand a quick squeeze to reassure him everything was alright.

She truly had a wonderful time with Irene and felt she could be one of the first true friends she had in a while. Amelia could not deny she had been lonely here.

Grabbing a tray she organized a saucer of milk, a porcelain plate with bread and cheese and three cups on it.

Carefully, balancing the load she made her way back.

It appeared as though their banter had ended and the pair were now engrossed in a serious discussion.

"Yes, I will speak to him."

"It has to be tomorrow." Irene insisted.

"Of course, I am not an idiot." Sherlock scoffed.

Amelia placed the tray quietly on the table. "Here you go." She smiled.

"Sorry there's no tea."

"Don't worry." Sherlock turned back to Irene.

Their conversation lasted over an hour. Amelia was feeling quite left out but whatever they were discussing they were being very vague about. She didn't want to be rude and interrupt. But she would ask Sherlock in the morning.

"I'm going to retire. Good night." She finally stood, and made her way out.

Irene had flashed her a smile but Sherlock was lost in thought as he was prone to do when solving a puzzle.

Before Amelia could make it to her bedroom Sherlock appeared at the bottom of the stairs.

"Wait a moment."

"Yes?" Sherlock climbed up the stairs.

"Thank you, for taking her in. Not many people would. I wouldn't think you would with her…reputation." He murmured the last part.

"Not all rumours are true. You need not worry before we were married I promised you I wouldn't be a typical wife. Aren't I keep that promise?"

"Yes…" He leaned forward, tucking a brown curl behind her ear, "you are."

Placing a light kiss on her forehead that left her blushing, he bid her good night and disappeared back to Irene.

Now in bed Amelia had a hard time falling asleep. She had been tossing and turning for what seemed like hours.

The sound of Sherlock playing the violin did not help her treacherous thoughts. The thought that he was playing for Irene filled her with envy. The thought he stayed up speaking with her.

"Stop it, Amelia" She spoke out loud. She would trust him. She had to trust him. Besides she should not care. He was her husband in name only.

And so she shut out the nagging voice in the back of her mind - the warnings from Mycroft - and fell into a troubled slumber.

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><p><strong>Let me know what you think. I know the story is going slowly but I kind of like keeping it that way. :)<strong>


	8. Marriage Spats

**An Update! :D I haven't abandoned this story. Sorry there have been so few updates but I really appreciate everyone who has reviewed and read my story!**

**Much love,**

**W.R**

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><p>The next morning, Amelia awoke to find herself alone in the house.<p>

Mrs. Hudson had left her a note that she had gone to the market - Sherlock had apparently raided the cupboard overnight then had promptly disappeared.

Irene also left her a little card. The beautiful cursive writing thanked her for putting her up for the night; although as far as Amelia remembered she had not agreed to that.

Instead of lamenting her situation though she decided to call upon Mary and see if she would be free to visit an art gallery with her. She figured taking her mother's advice to socialize more would not be so bad.

The coachman was bid wait as she knocked on the door.

A plump woman answered it and asked Amelia to come inside.

"Good morning, Amelia dearest!" Mary greeted her with a smile. "What a pleasant surprise."

"I hope I am not intruding. I simply wished to know if you would like to join me on for a short outing."

"Of course. I am tired of being cooped up in this house. John thinks I should be resting in bed until the baby arrives and tip-toes around me as if I am a fragile porcelain doll. I couldn't imagine a more terrible punishment." With that Mary grabbed a warm shawl, and left instructions with Molly, her maid to have supper ready when they returned.

For the duration of the carriage ride to the art gallery Amelia inquired about Mary's pregnancy. At only 4 months along she was only barely starting to show. But it was an exciting time.

Not long after they arrived at the Norwich Society of Artists who was hosting the art show. As it was after lunch the venue seemed packed.

"Perhaps we should have come earlier."

Mary shrugged. "Let's go. I do not mind a bit of shoving." She winked.

Amelia knew that nothing of that sort would be happening at this establishment. Only the upper-middle to upper class would be attending such an event.

They spent a few hours viewing the art pieces and had finally rested by Moonlight on the Yare - an eerie piece by Crome.

Mary was sitting down, catching her breath. When she spotted a gentleman eyeing her friend.

Before, she could say something to Amelia who was studying the piece, he approached.

"I don't believe we've been introduced." He tipped his hat to Amelia.

"N-no, we have not." Amelia was taken aback by his break with protocol. It spoke volumes about his manners and breeding - or lack thereof. "Perhaps, we should return home." She spoke to Mary, who immediately stood up.

"Please, do not have the wrong idea. I am an old friend of your husbands - Sherlock Holmes. And I wished to make the acquaintance of his beautiful wife…I am Lord Moriarty, I am well-acquainted with the Holmes senior from parliament."

This still did not put Amelia at ease but she extended her hand, which Moriarty took and placed a quick peck in greeting. "Amelia Holmes." She introduced herself briskly. "This is my friend, Mrs. Mary Watson. We really should be going, though."

"I'm sorry if I've made you uncomfortable."

"You did not."

"Now, I do not think friends should be dishonest with each other. But I will bid you farewell, and will try to think of a way to make amends." He bowed to both ladies and disappeared.

"What a peculiar fellow." Mary took Amelia by the arm leading her to the exit. "I caught him staring at you...with that look in his eye. I wouldn't trust his intentions"

"Look?"

"Come now. You are a lovely young lady. Men are bound to pay attention."

Seeing Amelia look quite taken aback by her comment, she changed the topic. "Will you stay for tea?"

"Of course. Thank you for the invitation."

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><p>Sherlock was strumming on his violin while simultaneously, looking out the window.<p>

Neither he nor Mrs. Hudson had any idea where Amelia had disappeared to that day.

The business with Irene had been concluded around midday and he wished to return to the case at hand...he had his suspicions about who had poisoned the boy but wanted someone to accompany him to the fair.

He had been quite shocked with himself when his first thought was to invite Amelia.

He did not like that he had grown so attached to her. But he guessed it was normal besides, they were alike in many regards - pushing the boundaries set by society.

Sherlock would discover though that he would have to wait a while before he finally spotted Amelia stepping out of the carriage and running up the steps to their home.

She tried to tip-toe inside.

Clearly, feeling guilty about returning home so late.

So she was shocked when she spotted Sherlock stretched out on the divan in the powder room - a pout evident on his features.

"Good evening." She greeted. Folding her black shawl in her arms. "Did you have a good day?"

"It was productive." He eyed her as she walked to sit down across from him.

"So where did you go?"

"The art gallery. Then went to Mary's for tea which turned into dinner. I did not know I was expected at home." She explained.

"Hmph. Doubt you would have come home anyways."

"Really, Sherlock you can be quite childish sometimes."

His lips twisted into a sneer.

Amelia had the distinct impression that he had also wanted to stick out his tongue at her.

"It really isn't fair. You were up all night with Irene and had disappeared in the morning yourself. I won't wait on you hand and foot."

"Perhaps, you should be."

"Oh?" Amelia felt her own temper rising now. "And you claim you are a proper husband? Always, gallivanting about London with god knows who, doing god knows what?!"

Sherlock jumped to his feet. Not liking the accusations made against him.

"That's my right as a man and your husband! If you had something other than wool in that head of yours, you would watch your tongue."

"Excuse me! Wool?" Amelia was flabbergasted that he could be so rude.

"Well I apologize I was not afforded the same education you were, being a _MAN._ But I am not stupid! As if being a man gives you a right to threaten me and make accusations…When we got married we were perfectly clear about what our relationship was going to be like." She ranted on. "We came into this relationship as equals. All we demanded of each other is that we would be left to our own devices. I don't see why you seem dissatisfied with that now and wish to subjugate me. You can't just suddenly change the rules."

She looked quite cross and rightfully so.

"Perhaps, I am dissatisfied…"The words were barely audible. He turned to leave the room but spun around.

Marching to towards the infuriating woman, he placed his lips to hers in a demanding kiss.

"I'll see you tomorrow night." He said when he finally, broke the unexpected kiss. He disappeared before she could respond and reprimand him for his actions.

As he sauntered off in the chilly English night, he cursed as he went. Perhaps, it would have been better to be married to a stupid little ninny who sat at home doing nothing, instead of an infuriating spit-fire…perhaps it would have been better if he was alone.

But in his heart he knew that was not true. For all his misgivings and to his horror he could not deny that he liked his wife. But what does one do about such things...

Such thoughts plagued him until he finally arrived at a familiar looking pub.

Time to drink away his insane thoughts.

Amelia sat there ready to cry.

She hated that she had thrown away her upbringing because of him.

She hated that Sherlock for all his bravado enjoyed running away from her.

She hated the state of her marriage….

And even more frighteningly, hated that she wanted more out of it.

Didn't she dream of being independent in a marriage - not tied down by romantic notions? This was something that Sherlock had given her from the beginning of her marriage. But from the jealous feelings that arose when Irene appeared to her secret desires it was clear that she craved romance or at least affection.

But she would be too proud to say anything to Sherlock. She would not be a beggar. For all of his attentions, he had only reaffirmed his frustration with her…and perhaps, his disappointment in her as well. After all, she was not a dark-beauty like Irene nor, was she blonde with fair skin.

Amelia sighed but hardened her heart. She had always found having no expectations was the best way to avoid heartbreak.

Standing up she went to find . Perhaps she would know where Sherlock had run off to.

It had taken a bit of wheedling from to get her to tell her where Sherlock might be. But, eventually she had told her.

Amelia found herself at the doors of the pub where he might be at.

Already, two drunk men had accosted her with propositions she was not used to hearing.

She pulled her brown cape tighter around her body and bravely stepped inside.

The pub was loud - with screams, shouting and a clearly drunk man playing the fiddle in the corner, this was definitely something she had never seen before.

"And they are supposed to be the superior gender." She rolled her eyes.

It wasn't hard to find Sherlock in the small establishment.

She sat across from him at the booth. Already the drinks had piled up on the uneven table.

"G-go awayy." He slurred.

"If you come with me."

Recognizing her voice he looked up immediately. "W-what are you doing..." He paused to hiccup. "...here?"

"I've come to make sure you get home in one piece and that you don't get robbed."

"There's a carriage waiting outside. Let's go." She urged him, taking his hand.

Sherlock grumbled something unintelligible.

Eventually, she managed to walk him to the carriage, after paying the hefty bill he had racked up.

Tipping the driver extra, he also helped get Sherlock up the steps to their house on Baker st.

Mrs. Hudson then helped her get him to lay down on the couch. He was fast asleep by the time she had returned with a glass of water.

If Amelia knew anything about drinking it was that he would have a terrible headache in the morning.

For a smart man he made some terrible decisions.

Tenderly, she ran her hands through his curly locks. They were surprisingly soft to the touch. She would be mad at him tomorrow again, but just for a moment longer she would play the part of the concerned wife before she too disappeared to her room to get some rest.

* * *

><p><strong>Hope you enjoyed. <strong>


	9. Resolution

**Chapter 9**

**I did not think I would come back to this story but it seems to have gotten quite a bit of attention and I am trying to make sure that I don't leave unfinished projects lying around. **

**Thank you to everyone who has reviewed and taken the time to read this story. **

**Regards,**

**W.R. **

* * *

><p>Sherlock awoke to the sound of bickering women.<p>

He took a moment to get his bearings.

It was clear that he was home but how he got here he could not remember. He figured he had taken a coach otherwise his feet would have been hurting. Someone must have found him otherwise, he could not have been covered by a blanket seeing as he never usually bothered with such things.

The women in the hall were still arguing. Their voices were starting to grate on his nerves.

"Will you be quiet?" His throat was so dry that his shout came out as a whisper. Clearing his throat he tried again – this time he was louder and his words seemed to have the desired effect.

And there was glorious silence.

Sherlock closed his eyes once more wishing to sleep, when the parlor door was flung open.

"So you are awake!" Amelia declared, striding in, hands on her hips. "Get up and don't pretend to sleep I heard you." She threw a pillow at him and he could no longer pretend to be dead to the world.

"We are about to have company, I suggest you make yourself presentable." He cracked an eye taking in her disheveled appearance. She was still in her night gown and robe.

"How do we know we are going to have company? No one was invited today." She huffed.

"A carriage just stopped outside our door."

Amelia rushed to the window to investigate and found to her shock that he was right. "Who is it?"

"The constable. I sent him a message last night."

Annoyed and embarrassed to be seen in her nightgown she rushed back upstairs but not before calling down to Mrs. Hudson to answer the door.

Happy to be alone again, Sherlock awaited his guest. He did not care how he appeared instead he was hoping he'd be able to shock Lestrade's sensibilities. Then he had to find out what Mrs. Hudson and Amelia were fighting about.

Another second passed before there was a knock at the door. Sherlock counted ten more seconds before Mrs. Hudson showed Lestrade into the parlor gasping at the state of Sherlock lying on the sofa, shoes off, waistcoat unbuttoned.

"Really, Sherlock at least get up to greet the constable." She admonished as though he were a child.

"Good morning." He managed a civil greeting but refused to sit up. His head was aching too much for him to contemplate doing that at the moment.

"So Sherlock, I've received your message. I don't know why I am surprised to find you like this and stinking of drink. Did you actually have something for me or are you playing one of your little games with me?"

"The first option. I wanted to tell you that I will apprehend the murderer of that boy two days from now."

"That's it?"

"Well I suppose you should have a cell ready for the man."

"It could well be a woman." Lestrade was frustrated with him, a simple note would do for a message like this. He had learned long ago not to doubt Sherlock but he had not come to terms with his methods nor would he ever.

"All shall be made clear to you." Sherlock waved him away with his hand. "Thank you."

Lestrade stood there for a moment utterly furious but decided against fighting with him now. He had other work to get to and was glad to leave Sherlock's infuriating company.

"I swear one of these days, Mr. Holmes you will get what's coming to you."

"I hope it's a spot of tea." Sherlock muttered, closing his eyes once more.

By the time Amelia made her way downstairs, dressed in a striped magenta gown she found the house empty once more. It irked her that Sherlock had made himself comfortable on the couch and was sound asleep again. He did not deserve the rest.

She first went to see Mrs. Hudson who was still furious at her for going after Sherlock last night and refusing to give Sherlock his tea this morning.

"Mrs. Hudson?"

"What is it dear?" The woman seemed to have forgotten her anger towards her for now.

"Can I help you?"

"Just making Sherlock his tea." Mrs. Hudson paused waiting for Amelia to contradict her, when she didn't she began preparing a tray for him.

"I'll take it to him." Amelia was firm about this. "You do know you spoil him too much, Mrs. Hudson. He will never learn at this rate."

"I am his caretaker not his governess."

Amelia raised her hands in the air – fair enough. "He really should act properly. My mother would faint if she saw him now."

"Good thing she isn't popping by today." Mrs. Hudson chuckled to herself remembering the domineering woman.

Taking extra care to be quiet, Amelia carried the tray into the parlor and set it down on the side table.

She tried nudging Sherlock awake and when that did not work she resorted to throwing a glass of water on his face.

It seemed to do the trick and in an instant he shot up sputtering at being so rudely awakened.

"You deserve that you drunk." She sat across from him all prim and proper as she prepared a cup of tea for him. "Just so you know I'm still mad at you."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. He suspected as much.

"Are you going to say something for yourself?"

For a moment Sherlock looked as though he was about to respond with his typical snarky comments but he stopped remembering the events that had transpired the night before.

"Will you go to the fair with me tomorrow?"

"That's not what I meant!" Amelia shoved the cup in his direction and he began drinking greedily. "Aren't you going to apologize?"

"If I remember correctly you are at least partially responsible for last night…"

"Oh?"

"You made me kiss you and then got mad and then I stormed out on account of you women being so infuriating."

"That's not quite how I remember it." Amelia muttered under her breath.

"What was that?"

"I will go to the fair with you but only if you promise to be a gentleman and no drinking."

Sherlock smiled up at her. His mischievous grin promised her that she was in for some trouble.

"I've decided on a suitable punishment for you." She said after a moment of silence.

"Wasn't the water enough?"

"Unfortunately, no. I had to go chasing after you in London and I demand retribution."

"I never asked you to do that."

Amelia shrugged as if it did not matter much. "Will you play the violin for me?"

Sherlock raised his eyebrows in surprise, he did not know she enjoyed his playing. Then he collected himself, hiding behind his emotionless mask. "I suppose if you insist."

"Mary also invited us over for lunch." Amelia added remembering her friend's invitation.

"No, I have to draw the line somewhere." The idea of a civilized luncheon was enough to send shivers down his spine. Could Amelia have imagined a crueler punishment?

"I'll help you get dressed. You can simply accompany me – no need for you to talk. Besides isn't John your closest friend?"

Sherlock grinned at what she had said. "You'll help me get dressed? Now that does sound interesting…"

"I only meant laying out your clothes." Amelia hid her blush by taking a big gulp of her tea. "No need to be so crude. Honestly, sometimes I think I've married a sailor."

"I'll play for you after dinner. Now let me sleep." Sherlock plopped back down on the sofa. The teacup abandoned on the floor.

Knowing she wouldn't get an answer from him she tied up the room, returning all the cups to the tray and setting the pillows back in their places. She was contemplating her immaturity at throwing the pillow at him this morning when he grabbed her arm as she walked by.

"Thank you for bringing me home."

Amelia was shocked that he decided to take the time to apologize to her but she would not complain. "You are quite welcome."

The morning passed by swiftly for Amelia. She managed to take the time to bring their account book up to speed and create a shopping list for Mrs. Hudson. It was nearing eleven o'clock and she rushed upstairs to get ready for the luncheon, she'd have to explain Sherlock's absence but she was sure they were used to it.

After she had pinned her hair back into a stylish bun and clasped a pearl necklace around her neck she headed downstairs. To her surprise, Sherlock stuck his head out the parlor door. His hair seemed combed and as he stepped out of the room she saw he was dressed to go out.

"Are you coming?"

Sherlock was unnerved by the smile she was giving him. He almost wanted to shatter her dreams by saying no.

"Yes."

She clapped her hands together. "I'm so glad you've changed your mind."

"Pfft. It's only because I need to speak to John." He rolled his eyes at her behavior but inwardly he was pleased he had managed to elicit such a response from her. He was further surprised when she kissed his cheek before taking his hand and pulling him out the door.

* * *

><p>"Ah! Sherlock, good afternoon."<p>

"Hello, Mary." Sherlock greeted her just as informally.

"You usually don't come to these things." Mary pressed him for more information.

"It's my punishment." When he didn't explain Mary shrugged and led the pair into the dining room.

Sets of sandwiches, fruits and little cakes were laid out for them to enjoy and sample. John joined the group moments later.

A lively conversation sprung up and Amelia found herself enjoying herself immensely. She peaked over at Sherlock who was having an animated conversation with John about blood spatter.

Mary caught her look and questioned her. "What did he mean by punishment?"

"Oh, Sherlock is just being mellow dramatic. I brought him home from the pub last night and I decided he owes me." Amelia smiled to herself. "Although I doubt seeing friends is much punishment. How are you?"

"Oh, I am well enough. I'm surprised he listens to you." Mary bit into a strawberry before continuing. "You must be growing on him."

"More like I learned how to twist his arm enough to listen to me." Amelia sighed. She seemed to be taking on the role of his mother rather than his wife.

"Oh, let me assure you that is no small feat."

After they had eaten their fill, Mary pressed the boys to join them for a round of cards. In the end, Sherlock and Amelia did not return home until well after seven in the evening.

"Shall I play for you now or are you hungry?"

"Oh no I am quite content. Mary stuffed me with her mousse cakes. Will you light the fire in the parlor? I want to grab my shawl." Not waiting to hear his response she hurried upstairs before he could change his mind.

She returned to find a good fire blazing and Sherlock strumming the strings of his violin.

"Ready?" He drawled.

Amelia nodded, laying back on the divan. The music began and she was transported to another world.

Sherlock watched as slowly her lids began to close. He switched to a softer melody and did not stop until he saw her chest rise up and down in deep sleep. He supposed she was tired, finding him last night must have been stressful work. With a sigh he set aside his violin and covered her in the blanket he had used last night.

A piece of hair fell down over her face and he instinctively reached out to tuck it behind her ear.

Why had he done that? Sherlock shook his head and climbed the stairs to his room. He needed to get some more rest himself.


End file.
